


talk dirty to me

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Car Sex, F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, accent kink, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 15:37:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15076286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: Remember that episode where Lance had an American accent? Yeah, so does Bobbi.





	talk dirty to me

_Drop the accent. It makes you sound like a douchebag._

Bobbi is trying fervently to focus on the word douchebag. Because really, the accent _does_ make Lance sound like a douche.

But it makes him sound like a douche she wants to fuck, and that’s problematic. Bobbi’s a professional, damnit, and she refuses to compromise their mission by having sex in the back of the SUV. This is especially true because they’re parked in the drive of a large estate that definitely has video cameras pointed at them, and Bobbi isn’t interested in making an accidental sex tape. Not again.

She’s briefly distracted from her musings about Lance’s American accent when they have to rush in to kill Bloom and capture Bakshi, but the thoughts return, as they always do. That’s the thing about Bobbi’s brain - she can get fixated on something and just never let it go. It makes her a brilliant agent, but right now? It’s annoying.

“Pull over,” Bobbi tells Lance. They’re winding down a country road on the way back to the base, and there’s plenty of space on either shoulder for them to park. They haven’t seen another car for miles, so she’s fairly certain they won’t be interrupted, either.

“Why?” He asks. Her answering glare must be scarier than she calculated, because he jerks the wheel to the side and they skid to a graceless stop on the gravel-covered shoulder.

Bobbi leans over the center console, wrapping her hand around the back of Hunter’s neck to guide his lips to hers. The tension in her shoulders uncoils as he opens his mouth, beginning a familiar dance of lips and teeth and tongue.

Hunter breaks away, and Bobbi whines. “You seriously told me to pull over just so you could kiss me?” Hunter asks. His English accent sounds strange now, even though it’s how she’s heard him talk for the entirety of their relationship. She doesn’t know why he’s complaining, since normally he’s _thrilled_ to abandon work for play.

“I plan on doing a lot more than kissing,” Bobbi replies with a smirk. “But I have a condition.” Hunter will accept it, she knows. Normally her price is a lot steeper than speaking in an accent, so he’ll be pleased.

“Name it.” Predictable as always.

“Talk in the American accent.” Bobbi tries not to look embarrassed as she says it, but it’s hard when she’s watching a Cheshire grin spread across Hunter’s face.

“You like it,” he purrs, the drawl thick on his tongue. Bobbi’s entire body reacts to the sound, a flush creeping over her skin as wetness begins to seep into her underwear. He’s going to tease her about this for a long time, but the way she feels right now is definitely worth it. Everything is so warm and blurred around the edges, desire dulling her normally overactive senses.

“Want to find out how much?” Bobbi asks. It’s the only way she can admit to her desire without sounding desperate. Instead she sounds flirty, or taunting - both of which she can live with.

Hunter doesn’t answer with words, choosing instead to fling himself into the backseat, where there’s more room to move. Bobbi follows behind him, not breaking eye contact as she reaches her hand into his jeans.

Bobbi leans in for another kiss as she begins to fondle his cock, but Hunter pushes her back. “Can’t talk if we’re liplocked, darlin’.” He grins, seemingly unaffected by her hand. Sex is the only  time when he seems to have a poker face, just because of how much he enjoys teasing her. “But I can think of other uses for that pretty little mouth of yours.” Bobbi shivers, nodding in acceptance of his unspoken suggestion.

She unbuckles his belt and carelessly tugs his jeans down, moving to kneel in front of his seat. Bobbi pauses for a moment to relish the sight of his tented boxers. “Like what you see?” Hunter asks, stroking his hand over her hair. Bobbi’s long since stopped trying to figure out why, exactly, she likes the accent, but _damn_. She manages a nod in response to Hunter’s question, not trusting herself to speak as she unbuttons his boxers and releases his dick.

Her hand wraps around it automatically, pumping a few times to make sure he’s ready for her. Hunter’s finally reacting, his breath coming slightly harder than normal as he watches her. “Can’t think of anything snarky to say?” Bobbi teases. Before he can answer, Bobbi leans forward and sucks the tip of his cock into her mouth, tongue swirling around the head.

“Hnng,” he responds. Hunter collects himself quickly, smiling down a her. “Forgot how good you were at this, babe.” Bobbi resists the urge to roll her eyes as she sucks more of him into her mouth. That shuts him up quickly.

One of Bobbi’s hands is braced on Hunter’s thigh, but the other is free to do whatever it wants, and it doesn’t take long for it to wander down to her own jeans. She pulls them far enough down her hips that she can access her underwear, letting out a hum as she touches herself.

“Fuck, Bobbi,” Hunter grunts. She forgot how much he likes the buzzing sensation, but now that she’s remembered, Bobbi is going to use it to her advantage.

“Isn’t fair, you know,” Hunter manages in between pants. “That there are people as beautiful as you.” Bobbi hums again, and Hunter groans, his eyes fluttering shut as she continues bobbing her head up and down, the rhythm of her fingers on her clit mirroring the movement of her mouth.

Bobbi can tell Hunter’s trying hard, first to remember to use the American accent and second not to cum too soon. His hand in her hair is gentle, but the one that’s fisted at his side is white-knuckled. Bobbi releases Hunter’s dick with a pornographic _pop_ , enjoying the way his eyes snap open at the sound and lack of sensation.

“God, Barbara,” he says. Bobbi’s entire body tenses at the way her given name sounds on his tongue, the twist of the syllables in his mouth making it almost beautiful. Hunter tugs her up and into his lap, obviously relieved to have a bit of a reprieve.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you touching yourself?” Hunter growls into her ear as his hand slides up her stomach and onto her breast. He pinches her nipple and Bobbi gasps. “Naughty, naughty girl.” His voice sounds even more authoritative with the different accent, and Bobbi’s mouth goes dry.

“I don’t need your permission.” Bobbi’s retort is a little weak from the lack of moisture in her mouth, but the nip she places on Hunter’s collarbone is more than enough to make up for it.

“Haven’t you learned by now I like to help?” He asks. Bobbi shudders, because she does indeed know of his willingness to help, and it always ends in the same way - her falling apart on his fingers.

“You are such a dick,” Bobbi whispers as Hunter’s other hand begins climbing up the inside of her thigh, achingly close to where she wants it.

“I’m American, of course I’m a dick.” Yup, ‘douchebag I want to fuck’ is definitely an accurate description of Hunter right now.

Hunter’s fingers quickly replace hers, and he begins a new, different rhythm. Bobbi hates that he knows how to play her like a fiddle, because it’s honestly unfair that it takes her less than a minute to starting riding his hand, and only a minute more to cum, the ribbons of heat and desire tangling themselves into something foreign and familiar as she bites out Hunter’s name.

“That’s my pretty girl,” Hunter murmurs as she’s coming down. Tendrils of desire are already wrapping around her again, and Bobbi lets out a noise of protest. They’re still in the back of an SUV after all, and she’d much rather finish scratching her itch long enough to get to a real bedroom.

“You can stop with that," she says, clambering back down onto her knees. She licks a stripe on the underside of Hunter’s dick, smiling to herself. Maybe he knows how to play her, but she can play him too - and he’s only held on this long thanks to her mercy.

It turns out that Bobbi needn’t tell him to lose the accent, because the only noises Hunter makes for the next three minutes are a variety of colorful noises. Bobbi lets out one last hum, and Hunter spills into her mouth. Bobbi doesn’t prefer to swallow, but they don’t have anything to clean up with, so it minimizes the mess.

“You gave me some pretty impressive bruises,” Hunter comments as he tugs his pants back up. Bobbi catches purple ovals pressed into his hips before his jeans cover the skin, and she shrugs.

“Maybe if you had better control, I wouldn’t have to hold you down,” she says primly, straightening her clothes before climbing back into the passenger’s seat. Hunter had a tendency to lose control of his hips, and when his dick was down her throat, that was not something Bobbi liked.

“Whatever you say, darling.” Hunter smirks at her, and Bobbi reaches over to smack him. He’s too pleased with how attractive she finds the accent.

“Just drive,” she commands. He turns the key in the ignition and smiles at her.

It is not the last of the accent, that’s for sure.

**Author's Note:**

> I am #lazy about titles, I'm sorry. Hit me up on [tumblr](https://huntxngbxrd.tumblr.com/)!


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